


Cypripedium Calceolus

by SharkGirl



Series: The Language of Flowers [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Gardener, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Angst with a Happy Ending, Botanist!Otabek, Botany, Businessman!Yuri, Cliche, Cute, Falling In Love, Family Drama, First Kiss, Fluff, Gardener!Otabek, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pretty much the plot of every Lifetime movie, Sweet, gardener au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: Even now, the memories of his grandfather's garden are soothing.  It had always been his safe haven.  A sanctuary from the troubles of his daily life.  And their secret place.So, when Yuri learns that his grandpa has brought on help in the form of a buff, undercut-sporting young man new to town, he rushes home to Moscow, fully intent on firing the new gardener.But all his plans come to a screeching halt when he finds the intruder tenderly caring for his grandpa’s prize orchids.





	1. Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't originally planned on writing this. It started as a [little idea](http://jubesy.tumblr.com/post/155632626070/otayuri-gardener-au) I had, but then I got some positive feedback and, well, here it is!! I hope you all enjoy it!!
> 
> Un-beta'd~

_“Grandpa, what’s this one called again?” a young Yuri asked, gazing at a dark red and yellow blossom._

_“That’s a Cypripedium calceolus, Yuratchka,” he answered, ruffling the boy’s cropped blond hair._

_“Sip…sip-pree…” He frowned, unable to get the word out properly._

_“They call it the lady’s slipper orchid,” his grandfather went on, giving him a fond smile. But then he held up his index finger, looking from side to side before cupping a hand to his mouth. “But,” he began in a whisper, “I know better.”_

_“You do?” Yuri whispered back, blue-green eyes impossibly wide as he stared up at the older man in rapt wonder._

_“The yellow petals are fairy shoes,” he said with a wink. “These flowers only bloom for a few weeks,” he explained. “And, after they’re done, the fairies come to take their shoes, so they won’t burn their feet on the hot stones during the summer.”_

_“Wow.” He blinked up at his grandfather and then eyed the orchids._

_“Would you like a pair of Cypripedium calceolus shoes, Yuratchka?”_

_“Me? Really?!” Yuri shouted and then covered his mouth, his ears turning red. “I mean,” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Really?”_

_“Of course. Anything for you.” He gave the boy's cheek a little pinch. “After all,_ we’re about to land, Sir.”

Yuri jolted awake when he felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder.

“What?!” he snarled, still half-asleep, startling the flight attendant.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she apologized, cradling her hand to her chest, unable to look him in the eye. “We’re about to land, so you’ll have to put your seat back in its full upright position.”

“Oh.” He pressed the button he’d used to recline and leaned forward until the chair slid back into place.  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stifled a yawn.  He hadn’t meant to fall asleep during the short flight, but he supposed it was his own fault for booking a red-eye.

He hated to leave work before he solidified the deal and had the contracts signed, but he needed to get home.  Something awful had happened.  It must have.  There was no way his grandfather would have done what he did otherwise.

As soon as they landed, he pulled out his phone, aggravated that he’d missed two calls.  The first was from his boss and the other was from his most annoying co-worker and rival.  The latter actually left a voicemail.  Yuri put in his passcode and scoffed at the man’s cheery greeting.  Mid-roll, his eyes widened as he listened to the rest of the message.

Yuri practically bolted down the aisle and off the plane the moment the crew opened the door.  He quickly dialed his boss, hoping that the other man would answer despite the late hour.  He wasn’t disappointed.

“You can’t seriously be considering handing _my_ contract over to _JJ,_ of all people!” Yuri shouted, barely letting the other get out a groggy greeting. “I’ve been working on that deal for _six months_ , Victor,” he growled. “If you think I can’t get it done just because I’m visiting my hometown for a few days, you’re-” he paused when the older man spoke up, sounding a bit more awake.

Apparently, JJ had _not_ been ‘promised’ the contract, as his overly confident voicemail had implied.  He’d just been placed on reserve, an in-the-city go-to for the client to speak with in person in case there was something they didn’t understand.

“I assure you that I can take care of it over the phone, Victor,” he said and then groaned when the other corrected him. “Right, _Mr. Nikiforov_.” He bit his tongue to keep from adding something snarky to the end of his boss’s title.  “I’m only going to sort out some family business and then I’ll be on the next flight back to Saint Petersburg,” he vowed. “So don’t let JJ get too comfortable with my clients,” he added before hanging up.

Great.  Just great.  His grandfather had lost his mind and his boss – who, honestly, Yuri didn’t think was all there to begin with – was losing his.  Why did everything have to happen at once?  He was about to call his grandpa to let him know that he’d arrived, but it was three in the morning and he knew the older man would be asleep.  So, he pocketed his cell and grumbled as he made his way to baggage claim.

It was nearly dawn when his taxi pulled up to the small residential area atop a great hill in southern Moscow.  Yuri paid the driver and grabbed his suitcase from the trunk.  He hadn't brought much, just a few changes of clothes, for he didn’t plan on what he came home to do taking up too much time.  It was simple:

Fire the new gardener.

Yuri knew his grandfather had a bad back.  Even as a small child, he remembered the older man getting up with great difficultly after weeding his beloved garden.  But Yuri was always there to help, small hands covered in dirt and scratches by the time they were done.  Even so, he’d loved it.  His grandfather’s garden was their secret place.  It was where the outside world couldn’t touch them.  Where the piles of bills on the kitchen counter vanished and awkward head pats and ‘atta-boy’s from his mother’s suitors couldn’t reach him.

He was safe there.

So, why?  Why did his grandfather leave his beloved garden, their precious safe haven, in the hands of a complete stranger?  Some new man in town who was probably overcharging and swindling Yuri’s grandpa out of the last of his savings.

Well, Yuri wasn’t about to take that sitting down.  That’s why, as soon as he heard the news from his mother – in the middle of her asking why she hadn’t received her monthly check from him yet – he’d booked the first flight back home from Saint Petersburg.

The wheels of his suitcase clicked as they rolled over the cobbles.  He knew the path well.  He would often leave his own home and make the short journey to his grandpa’s cottage just across the shallow ravine.  There used to be a bridge there, but it had rotted with the passage of time and fell into disrepair.  But that hadn’t stopped Yuri.  He would jump where the gap was the smallest and scurry up the hillside, grasping onto exposed roots and shrubs to keep his balance.

The sun crested the hill and flooded the familiar walkway with its warm, orange glow.  It was nearly June, but the weather was still a little brisk, especially at dawn.  The wind whipped around him, his long black jacket billowing and revealing its leopard print inner lining.  He closed his eyes and heard the babbling of the brook flowing through the nearby ravine.

He was home.

Yuri continued walking, taking note of the small changes the garden had undergone in his absence.  There were a few new bushes he didn’t remember and some hanging plants near the gate.  Then he spotted his grandfather’s cottage, just as quaint and wonderful as in his memories.  He picked up the pace, rushing toward it, but stopped when he saw an unfamiliar crop of dark hair pop up from behind the stone wall.

The gardener.

And  _of course_  he’d have an under-cut.  It seemed like every annoyance in his life sported the fashionable style.  Yuri hated him already.

But at least the man had made it easy for him.  Now he just had to make his way over, fire him, and that was that.  No more intruders in his sanctuary.  And Yuri would figure out a way to take care of the garden without any help from outsiders.

“Hey, you-” he began as he approached, but his voice failed him when the man turned around.  He wasn’t particularly tall, in fact, he was probably half a head shorter than Yuri, but there was something intimidating about him.  He oozed masculinity.  Maybe it was his dark features or serious expression, or the way his brows were set and his jaw clenched.  His coffee-colored eyes were gazing down at his work.  Perhaps he’d spotted a weed he’d missed or something.

Yuri had almost recovered, but then the other man looked up. His dark eyes widened in surprise at first before he furrowed his brow in confusion, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he began to ask who Yuri was. 

“Otabek!” a familiar voice called, interrupting their meeting.  Yuri turned toward the cottage just as his grandpa walked out of the door, carrying a tray heavily laden with freshly baked buns.  The aroma of his grandpa’s famous pirozhki was heavenly and his stomach gave a loud growl as the older man drew near.  “I know it’s a little early, but I thought you could do with some breakfast.” Apparently his grandfather hadn’t spotted him yet.

“Ah, thank you, Mr. Plisetsky,” the gardener, Otabek, gave a nod and reached for a bun, but the older man pulled the tray back.

“Uh-uh,” he tutted and then smiled. “I thought I told you to call me Nikolai.” He laughed and clapped Otabek on the back. “Mr. Plisetsky was my father!”

“Yes, Sir.” Otabek cleared his throat and accepted the pirozhok that Nikolai shoved under his nose.

“You’ve done a great job, my boy,” he went on, giving the garden a once-over.  He paused when he spotted Yuri, nearly dropping the tray. “Yuratchka?” Nikolai’s eyes, the same blue-green as Yuri’s, widened. “You’re…home?”

“Yes.” For a moment, he forgot all about the new gardener.  He resisted the urge to run and jump into his grandfather’s arms – he was no longer a child and he was mindful of the other’s bad back – but he still hurried over, leaving his suitcase behind.  He came to a halt right in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, none of that!” Nikolai set the tray down and engulfed Yuri in a bone-crushing hug. “You leave your poor grandfather for months and you think you can get out of a hug, huh, city boy?” He barked out a laugh and then released him. “Ah, my Yuratchka, you’re as thin as a rail!” He shook his head. “Eat some of these before you waste away,” he ordered, shoving two pirozhki into his hands and one into his mouth.

“Grmmphh,” Yuri mumbled around the bun before he took a bite and swallowed. “Grandpa,” he tried again. “I’m not a child. I’m a grown man!”

“I know, I know.” He sighed. “But you’ll always be my little Yuratchka.” He pinched his cheek and smiled fondly. Yuri rubbed the reddened flesh, but returned the sentiment, happy to see his grandfather looking so well.  He knew that the monthly checks he’d been sending his mother also went toward the older man’s bills, but he was always worried about how he was faring.

The sound of a twig snapping broke them from their moment.  Otabek looked up, his face still emotionless, but his ears tinted red.  Obviously, he’d been trying to sneak away as to not interrupt their reunion, but Yuri wasn’t about to let him escape.

“Oh, let me introduce you,” Nikolai beat him to it. “This is my grandson, Yuri.” He gestured toward him. “Yuratchka, this is my new gardener, Otabek Altin.”

Otabek held his hand out and Yuri begrudgingly took it.

“Your grandfather has told me a great deal about you,” the other man said, his dark eyes boring into Yuri’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Yuri was entranced by those eyes, but he snapped out of it, yanking his hand away. “I wish I could say the same.” He turned toward his grandfather. “Grandpa, why did you hire a complete stranger?” he asked. “Do you not care about what happens to our-” he stopped and shook his head, “ _your_ garden?”

“Of course I care what happens to it,” Nikolai said, knitting his brows together. “It’s because I care that I brought Otabek on,” he explained. “As much as I love it, my back can’t take the constant bending any longer. And I’d hate for my plants to die.”

“I understand that, but, the garden, it’s our…” Yuri trailed off.  He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the gardener. “Could we go inside?”

“Of course.” The older man nodded. “I’m sure you’re tired from your trip.” He made his way over to Yuri’s suitcase and wheeled it down the path.

“Grandpa, you don’t have to-”

“I'm glad you’re home.” He smiled. “I’ve got a new pirozhki recipe I’ve been working on.” He walked past them and toward the cottage. “I’ll be needing my favorite taste-tester to approve it, though.” He turned and gave a wink.

Well, Yuri didn’t have to fire Otabek immediately.  And he _was_ feeling rather weary.  He’d simply sit down for a spell, convince his grandfather that bringing in a gardener was a waste of money, and then he could return to Saint Petersburg and get back to work.

It was simple.  What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, Yuri, what could _possibly_ go wrong?
> 
> See how this seems like the plot of a Lifetime movie? Right? Ah, but clichés are fun ^^  
> This should only be a few chapters long. I don't plan on going crazy. But I would like to get this story out of my system.
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com)!


	2. Outsider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the meat of the story. The drama, the moments, the suspense! (My excuse as to why this chapter is twice as long as the first one)
> 
> I should also note that Yuri's been gone for months _this_ time, but he left home long before that. He just rarely makes it back for visits.
> 
> Please enjoy!! I had a lot of fun writing this cliché-filled romp ^^  
> Un-beta'd.

“Grandpa,” Yuri tried for the third time since the older man had all but forced him into one of the chairs surrounding the small kitchen table.  But his grandfather didn’t answer.  He simply hummed to himself as he fixed them some tea.

“How are things in the big city?” he asked over his shoulder. “Oh, and do you still take six sugars?”

“Fine and, no, I’ll take it straight, thank you.” He sighed, giving up for the moment.

“ _Take it straight_ ,” his grandpa mimicked. “What happened to my little Yuratchka?” He frowned. “The city’s turned you into a man!” he said woefully as he set down the tray of tea.

“I was a man when I left, Grandpa,” Yuri grumbled, picking up his cup and hiding his burning face behind it. “Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “about this gardener-”

“Yes, isn’t Otabek something else?” Nikolai gave a wide grin. “He’s knowledgeable and strong,” he went on, not giving Yuri a chance to object. “He dug out that dead tree that’s been giving me trouble for years!” he exclaimed. “Removed the roots, too,” he added before taking a sip of his tea. “It’s nice to have help again.”

Yuri bit his tongue.  He knew his grandpa wasn’t purposely guilting him.  Even though Yuri wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things were when he was child, he knew they couldn't.  He wasn't a child anymore.  He was a grownup with grownup responsibilities.

“How’s that job of yours?” Nikolai interrupted his thoughts. “Must keep you pretty busy, since I never hear from you.”

Alright, _now_ he was purposely guilting him.

“I’m in the middle of a huge deal right now,” Yuri said proudly. “We’re just a few signatures away,” he added, already regretting not rushing to get the contracts signed before he left.  He didn’t want to run the risk of having JJ finish up his work.  The last thing he wanted was that transfer taking the credit for all the business that Yuri had painstakingly earned over the last six months.

“And you managed to tear yourself away long enough to pay your ol’ grandad a visit?” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “That does my old heart good, Yuratchka.”

“Grandpa.” He fixed the older Plisetsky with a look. “You know I’d come home more often if I could.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, standing up and taking his empty mug to the sink. “The distance makes it difficult, but that doesn’t explain why you don’t call or write.” He braced his hands against the edge of the counter. “Even your checks have an electronic signature.”

Yuri frowned. This wasn’t what he came home to talk about.  He came home to fire the outsider who somehow sneaked his way into their sanctuary, not to argue about Yuri’s choice of profession.

“Does your mother know you’re home?” he asked, facing him again.  He didn’t give Yuri a chance to respond. “You should go see her.”

“I’d rather not,” he answered, purposely avoiding the other man’s gaze.  He didn’t want to get into that.  Not now.

“I won’t force you, Yuratchka.” Nikolai gave a disappointed frown.

Yuri hated being responsible for his grandfather making that face.  The guilt was like a hot knife twisting in his gut.  But he swallowed it down, distracted when he felt something brush against his leg.  He glanced under the table and found a fluffy tub of fur rubbing against him.  Pointed ears quirked in his direction as the cat faced him and opened her mouth, letting out a high-pitched mewl.

“Ah, I see she’s finally realized you’re back.”

Yuri cocked his head to the side. “Who is…?” He froze, eyes going wide. “What have you _done_ to her?!” he shouted, pushing his chair back as he stood up.

“What do you mean by that?” His grandpa raised an eyebrow. “She’s exactly as you left her.”

“Grandpa.” Yuri bent down, struggling to pick up the hefty feline. “She’s morbidly obese!”

“Oh, she’s no such thing!” Nikolai scoffed and waved his hand in dismissal. “Besides, is it my fault that I have to rely on my second favorite taste-tester now that you’re gone?”

“You’ve been feeding her _pirozhki_?!” Yuri screeched, appalled.  He suddenly wished that his posh Saint Petersburg apartment building allowed pets so he could whisk her away and save her from an early onset case of feline diabetes.

“Though, come to think of it, I believe she’s moved down a place to my third favorite.” The older man stroked his beard. “Otabek gives better constructive criticism.”

“ _Grandpa!_ ” Yuri hissed, setting his cat back onto the ground. “Okay, forget about that for a moment.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.  It was time to get back to reason he came home in such a rush.  “About that gardener-”

“I think the two of you would really get along,” Nikolai interrupted with a grin. “He’s around your age. New in town. Could really use a friend.”

“That’s great, Grandpa.” He rolled his eyes.  It wasn’t like Yuri lived _over_ _four hundred miles away_ , or anything.  “But I don’t see why you need him. We could always-”

“Ah, is that the time?” His grandpa glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get going.” He grabbed his hat and coat before strolling past Yuri and making his way toward the door.

“What…where are you going?” Yuri drew his brows down in confusion.

“I have a doctor’s appointment in town and if I have to reschedule again, I’m pretty sure the nurse is going to blacklist me,” he said with a snort.  Yuri opened his mouth, but the older man continued. “You’ll have to forgive me for leaving you after you’ve only just arrived, but I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. He couldn’t blame him. “I understand.”

“We’ll go out for lunch? Or, better yet, I’ll make you something!” Nikolai beamed and then sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Oh, I forgot!” he lamented. “I’m supposed to meet an old friend today.” He reached out for his address book, tucked away between old letters and recipe cards. “I suppose I’ll just have to cancel-”

“No.” Yuri shook his head. “Don’t cancel on my account.”

“But Yuratchka…”

“You don’t have to rearrange your life just because I came home.” He offered a small smile. “We can get together later.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive. Go have fun with your friend and don’t make the nurse too angry.”

Nikolai walked over and gave him a hug before pulling back and ruffling his hair. “You’re a good boy, Yuratchka.” He smoothed the tussled locks down and tucked some behind his ear. “You know, if you’re free for the day, you should spend some time with Otabek.”

“The _gardener_?” Yuri quirked a brow.  Him again?

“I’m telling you, I think the two of you would become fast friends.” He grabbed his scarf off of the coat rack and draped it over his shoulders. “Besides, if you’re spending time with him, you might be too busy to see your mother,” he began. “At least for your first few days back.”

“Grandpa-”

“See you tonight!” The older man waved and shut the door behind him, leaving Yuri alone in the small, one-bedroom cottage.

Just when had his grandfather become so meddlesome?  Or had he always been that way?  At least he wasn’t going to announce to his mother that he was back.  Yuri didn’t feel much like talking to her right away, not when the first thing out of her mouth would be ‘more money.’

Something outside the window caught his eye.  He looked over just in time to see his grandpa patting Otabek on the back before walking over to his old, beat-up car.  Even after only catching a glimpse of the rust-bucket, Yuri found himself almost able to smell its aged leather seats and hear the crackling hiss of the old radio.  He tore his eyes away from the familiar sight and glanced back over at Otabek, who was busy at work, pruning an overgrown shrub.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him.  Then, when his grandfather came home that evening, he could fire him properly.

It had warmed up a bit by the time Yuri stepped back outside, so he removed his coat, opting to wear only a light sweater.  But the wind was strong on the hilltop, so he wrapped his arms around himself until he was sheltered by the tall stone wall that surrounded the property.

He stared at Otabek for a moment, unsure of how he should address him.  But it was then that he noticed the other had moved on and was gently tending to his grandfather’s prize orchids.  Suddenly, he was a child again, gawking at the blossoms as his grandpa told him their secret.  The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I thought Grandpa was the only one who could make those bloom,” he said, looking down at the red and yellow flowers. Otabek turned, but didn’t speak. “This part here.” Yuri continued, pointing to the rounded yellow petal shaped like a lady’s slipper. “Grandpa used to say that these were fairy shoes.”

“Did he?” Otabek regarded him, his stoic expression softening a bit as the corners of his lips twitched. “And you believed him?”

“I was a child then!” Yuri drew his brows down, doing his best not to stomp his foot in irritation, as he knew he’d appear as petulant and childish as his short temper often painted him. “Still.” He glanced back at the orchids. “Grandpa said he’d grow some big enough so that I could wear them.” He snorted. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

He turned and found Otabek staring at him, his dark, coffee-colored eyes gazing so intently that Yuri was unable to look away. “Not at all.”

“Yes, well, anyway.” Yuri cleared his throat. “This may come as a shock to you, but-”

“You don’t want me here,” Otabek finished for him and, when Yuri blinked in surprise, he continued. “You may have the fierce eyes of a soldier, Yuri Plisetsky, but you lack a poker face.”

“Eyes of a…” Yuri gaped and then glared. “And what’s this about a poker face?”

“You’re easy to read.” He went back to the flowers, his thick, calloused fingers carefully pulling away dried leaves and wilted petals.  Yuri narrowed his eyes.  “It’s not a bad thing,” Otabek added as he plucked the dead stems. “I like that about you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Yuri argued.

“But I feel as though I do.” Otabek glanced back up at him. “Short temper, passionate, easily agitated, but quick to smile when something pleases you,” he spoke them as if he was checking off a list and then turned his attention back to the orchids. “Your grandfather talks about you a lot,” he paused, obviously hesitating before adding, “He misses you.”

Yuri wanted to get upset.  Wanted to scream at this outsider who was not only intruding on the garden, the secret hideaway of his childhood, but was also speaking as if he knew Yuri.  As if he knew anything about him.

But he wasn’t wrong.  So, instead of shouting, Yuri crouched down beside him, fingering one of the dark red petals. “I know he does,” he finally said. “I miss him, too. Everyday.”

“You should call him more,” Otabek suggested.

“Did he pay you to say that?” Yuri growled, glaring at him.

“No.” Otabek’s lips twitched again and Yuri found himself staring, wondering how someone with hands so rough-looking could have lips so smooth. “He doesn’t pay me at all.”

Wait.  No.  That couldn’t be right.  This man was a swindler, someone who was taking advantage of elderly man on a fixed income.  Wasn’t he?

“What do you mean, he doesn’t pay you?” he asked. “You can’t just be tending to an old man’s garden out of the kindness of your heart.”

“He pays me in his own way,” Otabek said. “I think I’ve put on a few pounds from his pirozhki alone.” He leaned back and patted his stomach, but Yuri didn’t notice any excess – not like his poor cat. “And he lets me study his plants.”

“Study…?” Now he was definitely confused.

“I moved here in order to complete my masters,” he explained. “And when I happened by and saw how overgrown his garden was, I just sort of let myself in and started to clean it up.” He chuckled and Yuri felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. “We botanists tend to get carried away when we see rare or unusual plants and your grandfather’s garden is full of them.”

“So, he caught you rooting around,” Yuri began and then snorted, “No pun intended. And then decided to keep you on as his gardener?”

“He recognized my deep love and appreciation for the horticultural arts,” Otabek offered with a small smile. “At least, that’s what he said when he asked me if I could remove that dead tree out back.”

“Grandpa told me about that.”

“It took three days, two spades, and that rusty old saw in the shed to finally take it down.” He shook his head. “My arms are still sore.”

Yuri glanced down just as Otabek flexed and, judging by the thick muscle there, he had a hard time believing that the other man was still feeling the effects. “So, you move to a new town, break into someone’s garden, and work for free?”

“All for the sake of finishing my graduate program.”

“And your deep love and appreciation for the horticulture arts,” Yuri added with a snicker, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes, that, too.” Otabek suddenly stood up and stretched. “These look good. Just need to weed a few more and then I’ll call it a day.” He dusted his hands off on his pants and walked over to the next plot.

Yuri stood up and cleared his throat.  It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. “Want any help?”

“Help?” Otabek asked over his shoulder as he crouched down beside a flowerbed. “From you?”

“Yes,” he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know that before you came along, I was the one who helped my grandfather with the weeding around here.”

“Ah,” he breathed before digging into the dirt. “That explains the overgrowth.”

“I meant before I moved to Saint Petersburg, smartass.” Yuri sat down and shoved Otabek’s shoulder, but the other didn’t wobble.  It was like pushing against a rock.  “I used to prune and transplant and all that.”

“Of course,” Otabek replied, side-eyeing him. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you did.” Yuri harrumphed. “Just because I live in the city now, it doesn’t mean I can’t get my hands dirty.” He proved his point by rolling up his sleeves and sticking said hands deep into the earth.

“My mistake.”

They stayed like that for a while, each working on their own area of the flowerbed until all of the weeks were uprooted and tossed into the wheelbarrow behind them.  Yuri hated to admit it, but it was fun.  He hadn’t hunkered down and buried himself into anything other than his work in so long.  It was refreshing.  Even if he _was_ filthy.

“Well, I’ve got a lab this afternoon,” Otabek said as he bagged up the last of the yard waste. “But I’ll be back tomorrow to weed the other sections,” he paused. “That is, if you’ll allow me.”

Yuri stared at him for a moment.  He’d definitely misunderstood the situation.  But it was hard to believe that some young, attractive guy would just offer to tend to an old man’s garden for free.  Not that Yuri found him attractive.  Not with the smudges of dirt on his cheeks and the way his shirt clung to him, damp with sweat.  Though, he did find his eyes drawn to the other’s skin as a droplet made its way down his neck and slipped behind his collar.

“Yuri?”

“Hm?” He blinked, tearing his eyes away. “Yes? Ah, yes!” His face felt hot and he coughed into his hand. “Of course. See you in the morning.”

 

That night, Yuri ate his grandpa’s home cooking and caught up on the goings on in the older man’s life.  He was happy to learn that the nurse hadn’t blacklisted him and that he’d won all three games of chess against his friend.  His grandfather wisely brought his mother up only once and left it at that, opting to ask about Otabek instead.

“So, you approve of my new gardener now, do you?” Nikolai asked with a wink.

“You could have told me that he was doing it for free,” Yuri accused.

“You didn’t ask.” His grandpa shrugged.

“You didn’t give me the chance.” He sighed and then let out a grunt as his overweight cat jumped onto his lap. “And another thing,” he growled, “She’s going on a diet!”

After dinner, Yuri brought some blankets over to the couch and made himself a bed.  His grandpa had offered him his own twin mattress, but there was no way Yuri was going to let the older man – who had a bad back, he might add – sleep on the sofa.

The cottage was quiet at night, only the sounds of the crickets and his grandfather’s snoring filled the small space.  His cat cuddled up beside him, her purrs adding to the low hum.  It had been a long day and he was exhausted.  He’d almost forgotten that he’d just flown in that morning.  The wind blew, rustling the leaves on a tree nearby and causing the branches to rub against the window with a soft scratch.  He’d have to ask Otabek to trim those in the morning.

And, with thoughts of the gardener’s calloused fingertips and surprisingly soft-looking lips filling his head, he drifted off to sleep.

 

Yuri awoke in an incessant rapping noise.  He sat up, his cat letting out a disgruntled mewl as he knocked her onto the floor.  He rubbed his eyes and looked around.  It was then that he noticed a familiar face peering in through the window.  But it couldn’t be.  Otabek’s smiles were small and rare.  This person was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yuri!” he called, voice muffled by the glass. “Come out here!”

With a stretch and a groan, he pulled himself out of bed, stepping into his boots and throwing a coat on before walking out into the chill of early morning.

“Otabek…what?”

“The Cypripedium calceolus are blooming!” He beamed, his normally serious face uncharacteristically exuberant.

"The...what?"

“Come look!” He grabbed Yuri’s hand and pulled him forward.

“Hey, wait!” He stumbled as his foot caught on a loose cobble, but he managed to stay upright as the other man dragged him along.  A few seconds later, they stopped. “Otabek, honestly, what the…” but Yuri stopped, his jaw dropping.  The lady's slipper orchids had bloomed alright.  There was a large section of the garden that was now painted a vibrant yellow and red. “Wow.”

“I wasn’t sure this group would pull through,” Otabek said, chest swelling up. “They were nearly choked by weeds, but they made it.”

“They sure did.” Even as a child, Yuri couldn’t remember the Cypripedium calceolus looking quite so healthy and bright.  They were much more lively than the few they'd pruned the day before.

“I thought I heard the door open.” Nikolai appeared, wearing his coat and house slippers.  His eyes widened as he took in the red and yellow petals.  He smiled and clapped Otabek on the back. “Excellent work, my boy, excellent!” he cheered. “This calls for a celebration.” He wrapped an arm around both their necks and directed them back toward the cottage. “Who’s up for some of my famous egg-filled pirozhki?”

After breakfast, Yuri helped Otabek weed the rest of the garden and trim the branches of the tree near the house.  It was well after his grandfather had brought them out sandwiches for lunch when they finally finished their work for the day.

“I’m sorry you had to stay so late,” Yuri said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“It’s fine,” Otabek assured him. “I don’t have any classes today.”

“Ah.” Then they were silent. They’d been happily chatting about plants all day, but now it was a little awkward. Yuri busied himself with looking around for any weeds that they may have missed.  As luck would have it, he spotted one.  He reached out for it.

Otabek tried calling out to him. “Wait, don’t that’s-” But it was too late.

“Oww, shit!” Yuri clutched his hand and cringed as blood began welling up from his cuts.  How on Earth had he not recognized Russian thistle.  His grandfather had always warned him to wear gloves before touching it and he’d just grabbed it with his bare hands.

“Hold on.” Otabek took his injured hand in his and grabbed a clean towel from the laundry hanging on the line.  It was worn and it easily gave way when he used his teeth to tear off a strip.  He quickly wrapped Yuri’s hand. “I’ll buy your grandfather a new one,” he promised as he chucked the rest of the ruined towel over his shoulder.

Yuri looked down at the makeshift bandage and raised his brows.

“It’s just to stop the bleeding,” Otabek said, averting his eyes as his cheeks tinted the slightest bit. “I can clean you up properly inside the house and make sure there are no thorns stuck in your-”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yuri said, biting back a snicker. “But you looked so panicked when you saw that I was bleeding.” He reached up and pushed some of Otabek’s disheveled bangs from his eyes. “My hero.”

“I heard a shout!” Nikolai called as he hobbled over, his back giving him more trouble that day. “What happened?”

“Yura went and cut himself,” Otabek answered, using the abbreviated version of his grandfather’s nickname for him and causing Yuri’s face to flush.  It was embarrassing.  But...hadn’t Otabek just been flustered?  Hm.  Two can play at that game.

“Yes, but, thankfully, _Beka_ saved me.” He clasped his hands together and batted his eyelashes. “My _hero_!”

“You two were fooling around?” His grandfather brought a hand to his chest. “And here I was nearly having a heart attack. You shouldn’t scare an old man like that!”

“Sorry, Grandpa.” “Sorry, Mr. Plisetsky.” They said in unison, gazes dropping to the ground in shame.

“Well, thanks for looking out for my Yuratchka, Otabek.” He smiled and then turned toward Yuri. “You should do something to thank him.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary-”

“That’s a great idea.” Yuri gave Otabek a little grin. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for taking care of my grandpa’s garden.”

“You have?” Otabek blinked.

“You _have_?” Nikolai echoed, equally shocked.

“Yes.” Yuri narrowed his eyes. “I’m not completely heartless, you know.” He pushed some of his hair over his shoulder, ignoring the dead leaves stuck in it for the moment. “I’m a businessman and this is business,” he added. “So, how about it, _Beka_?” He flashed his teeth. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee?”

 

In hindsight, Yuri should have invited the other man out to dinner, since, it was nearly five by the time he was done washing the dirt from his face and the twigs from his hair.  But, they could always get a snack at the café.

There was a lovely bakery in town.  It was small and shabby-looking on the outside, but the inside was filled with memories.  It was under new management now, but it hadn’t changed much.

“You’ve been here before?” Otabek asked after Yuri placed their order and took the plastic number card from the cashier.

“Yes. Many times,” he replied and found a seat in the corner near the fireplace.  The fire wasn’t roaring, but that area of the shop was always the warmest.  “Of course, I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I see.” Otabek hummed and took a look around. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

“The food is decent, but not nearly as good as it used to be,” he said. “They didn’t change the bun recipe, though, so they’re edible.”

“You seem to know a lot about this place,” Otabek mused.

“Well, of course.” Yuri shrugged. “My grandpa used to own it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, anyway.” Yuri quickly changed the subject. “So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Botanist.”

“There’s not much to tell, really.” Otabek went along with it, obviously taking the hint. “I studied back home in Almaty and I worked in a greenhouse there for a bit before getting into the graduate program here in Moscow.” He sat back as the server came by with their drinks and a plate of buns.

“So, have you always had a passion for the horticultural arts?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“My family runs a few flower shops in Kazakhstan, so I grew up around plants.” He lifted his own cup to his lips. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Yuri raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it seems to me that someone who loves getting his hands dirty in the countryside wouldn’t be suited for city life,” he offered, reaching for one of the buns. “Why Saint Petersburg?”

“Why else? For the money.” Yuri grabbed a bun for himself and took a bite. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but my grandpa isn’t exactly living in the lap of luxury.”

“And that was why you wanted to run off the new, money-grubbing gardener?” Otabek chuckled.

“Hey, it’s not my fault that I thought you were trying to swindle him.” He smiled around the bun before chomping on it.

“So, it’s my fault then?”

“Exactly.” Yuri finished chewing and licked the crumbs from his fingers. “I work hard to provide for them in any way I can.” He was interrupted when the server brought over a small cake.

“From the owner.” She pointed over her shoulder and a man in a chef hat and apron waved enthusiastically from the kitchen.

“Okay. I have to know why you’re so popular,” Otabek said, raising his brows.

“Fine, fine. But you asked for it.” Yuri sighed. “I told you my grandpa used to own this place, right?” Otabek nodded. “Well, he didn’t sell it because he wanted to.” He took a deep breath. “This place was super popular. Everyone loved my grandpa’s pirozhki. Hell, they loved everything on the menu.” He bit his lower lip. “But, something happened and he had to sell.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Yuri said, swallowing. “My grandpa loves baking, but he loves his family more.” He looked up. “He sold the bakery so he could help my mother take care of me. Even though he loved this place." He smiled sadly. "He met my grandmother here," he added and cleared his throat. It was hard, but it felt good to get it out.

Otabek waited for him to continue.

“I was an accident,” he admitted. “My mom was only fifteen when she got pregnant and the guy skipped town before she had a chance to tell him." Yuri laced his fingers, gripping them tightly. "Grandpa sold the bakery and a few of his signature recipes to put the down payment on our house. He ended up taking odd jobs so he could work and still be home to watch me," he went on. "It must have been hard for my mom to take care of me by herself when all she wanted to do was be a teenager, you know?”

"Yuri..."

“That’s why I send them half my paycheck. To make up for it,” he explained. “My mom never said she resented me, but…she didn’t have to. Who wouldn’t?”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding her?”

“Grandpa told you about that?” Yuri gave a hollow laugh. “Or am I that easy to read?”

“Yura, I didn’t mean-”

“I know I should go see her. But I also know what she thinks of me. How she sees me.” He looked down at his tea. “I’ll be happy as long as she can live her life now and not have to worry.”

“I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit,” Otabek said, face serious.

“Excuse me?” Yuri blinked.

“She’s your mother. I’m sure she loves you very much.” Then he averted his eyes. “I’m sorry. I overstepped.”

“No, it’s-” but Yuri stopped when he felt his cellphone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and gave a snort. “Wouldn’t you know it. It’s Mom.”

“Are you going to answer?” Otabek knit his brows together.

“I suppose I should take this as a sign.” Yuri smiled and the other man returned it.  He answered the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, Mom-” but he almost dropped it when she spoke, her voice high-pitched and frantic.  He hung up and grabbed his jacket, nearly knocking his chair over as he stood up.

“Yura, what is it?” Otabek caught his wrist, searching his eyes.

Yuri blinked back his tears, his lower lip quivering.

“Grandpa’s collapsed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He'll be fine. *points to tags* (distinct lack of major or minor character death)
> 
> One more chapter to go~  
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com)!


	3. Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story turned into something else entirely. I had this whole plan and, well...it went out the window. It took on a life of its own!! But I certainly hope that you like what I ended up writing ^^;
> 
> Final chapter. Un-beta'd. Please enjoy!!

Yuri could have throttled his grandfather, if he wasn’t half a step away from weeping in relief.

When he arrived at the hospital, he’s spotted his mother immediately.  She hadn’t changed much in the months since he’d seen her.  Still thin, pale, delicate-looking, with the same intense blue-green eyes that labeled her a Plisetsky.

She gasped when she saw him.  She ran over, but stopped short of throwing her arms around her son’s shoulders.  She had a tissue clutched in one of her hands.  Her nose was shiny and her eyes red-rimmed.

“Mom,” he gasped out, fearing the worst. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, voice weak and watery. “Someone from the hospital called me and then I called you and,” she sniffled, “I only just got here.”

It was then that Yuri noticed her attire.  She was wearing a shabby tan-colored uniform and an apron.  It looked like the outfits the servers wore at the diner near the train depot at the edge of town.  But she shouldn’t have been wearing that.  That would mean she was working.  And Yuri was sending her monthly checks so she wouldn’t have to.

“Mom, what are you-”

“Yura, is everything alright?” Otabek walked through the double doors of the hospital.  He’d been held up paying the taxi driver.  Yuri would have to reimburse him later. “How’s your grandfather?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Ms. Plisetsky?” a nurse called, walking into the waiting area, her head on a swivel as she sought out Yuri’s mother.

“Yes. That’s me.” She left Yuri’s side and placed shaking hands on the counter of the nurse’s station. “What’s my father’s condition?”

“He’s stable and we’re managing his pain,” the nurse explained. “It seems like his injections' effects aren't lasting as long.”

“Injections?” Yuri drew his brows down, his heart in his throat. “Mom, what’s going on? What’s wrong with him?”

 

Yuri kicked open the door to his grandfather’s room, startling the older man, who was in the middle of changing the channel on the television.  He lowered the remote with wide eyes as he took in his fuming grandson.

“Three herniated discs?!” Yuri roared, panting as he caught his breath.  His mother and Otabek had just caught up to him as he stormed into the room. “Is there a particular reason you didn’t _tell_ me?”

“I told you I had a bad back,” Nikolai offered sheepishly.

“Grandpa.” He clenched his fists as his sides. “You purposely downplayed it. _Why?_ Why would you keep it from me?” He lowered his gaze, tears stinging his eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he replied with a sigh. “I’ve been getting regular treatments and the pain hasn’t been as bad. Well, until earlier today.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I should get one of those long distance grabber contraptions to reach things on higher shelves, huh?” he said with a laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Yuri sobbed and then wiped furiously at his eyes. “When Mom called…I thought…” His bit his lower lip, willing his tears to subside.

“I’m sorry, Yuratchka.”

Then the doctor came in.  He went on and on about the different options they had, if they should continue with the treatment or choose surgery.  It was all a blur.  All Yuri could focus on was the tremor in his mother’s voice as she finally made a decision and how the once great and powerful man who could do anything looked so frail lying in a hospital bed.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Otabek looking at him, concern filling those dark, coffee-colored eyes of his.  He placed a hand over the other man’s and held it tightly before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

He’d needed that.

 

Otabek didn’t leave Yuri’s side the entire time his grandfather was in surgery.  He just sat beside him, holding his hand tightly in his and massaging Yuri’s knuckles gently with his calloused thumb.  It was soothing and it helped to ease his nerves.

Finally, when the doctor came out and declared the procedure a success, Yuri felt like he could breathe normally again.  As his mother thanked the doctor, he suddenly felt exhausted, all of his adrenaline spent.  He leaned his head heavily on Otabek’s shoulder and sighed.

“Why don’t I get you a cup of coffee?” the other man offered, his deep voice rumbling and the vibration in his shoulder tickling Yuri’s cheek. “Or some tea?”

“Tea, please.” Yuri nodded, sitting up.  Otabek gave his hand a squeeze and then unlaced their fingers so he could run down to the vending machines around the corner.

Now Yuri was painfully aware that he was alone with his mother in the waiting area.  She was still standing in the spot where she’d spoken with the doctor, her eyes trained on the double doors.  He should talk to her.  He knew he had to.  There were so many secrets between them now.  She was working?  His grandpa had been getting medical treatments he didn’t know about?

“Mom-”

“I’m sorry, Yuri.” She turned to face him, tears pooling in her eyes. “I know what you must think.” She took a shuddering breath. “I should have told you about your grandfather’s condition. We just…” she bit her lip, “We just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Why are you working?” he blurted, not meaning to ignore what she said, but wanting to know. “I send you money every month. You shouldn’t have to. And yet-”

“You’ve taken such good care of us, Yuratchka,” she said softly, crossing over to him. “Before, all of your grandfather’s treatments were free,” she explained. “But when he started getting his steroid shots last year, they were no longer covered.”  Yuri remembered hearing something about medical coverage and how not all services were still paid for by the state.  But he hadn’t thought much of it, since he didn’t think it applied to him.

“Mom…” He swallowed. “Are you working because my checks aren’t covering your expenses?” he asked.  She nodded, placing a hand over her mouth.

“I hated asking you for money,” she admitted. “And when your checks were a day late, I would panic. I would think…this is the day we lose the house.”

“Mom, you could have just told me!” Yuri insisted. “I would have sent more money. I would have-”

“I was terrified when I received the call from the hospital today,” she went on. “They weren’t clear over the phone and I thought…” Her lower lip quivered. “I thought I was going to lose you both.”

Yuri stared at her with wide eyes.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my father. The man who gave everything up for me,” she said. “But, I also knew that if Grandpa wasn’t around anymore…there’d be no reason for you to come home and I’d never see you again.” Her voice broke at the end. “I’m sorry, I-”

But Yuri ran to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her thin frame and burying his face in her neck. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” he sobbed against her skin. “I thought…this whole time, I thought…” He shook his head and pulled back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m an idiot. Please forgive me.”

She gave a watery laugh and looped lithe arms over his shoulders. “I should be asking that of you,” she said and then brought her hands to his cheeks. “You’re such a good boy, Yuratchka.”

He snorted and pressed his forehead to hers. “So I’ve been told.”

Otabek returned with a surprisingly lukewarm cup of tea shortly after that.  Yuri thanked him and drank it down in two gulps.  He felt parched after the amount of crying he’d done.

“I should get going,” Otabek said, scratching the back of his head.

“Yes. I’m sorry for keeping you so late.” Yuri toyed with the empty foam cup in his hands. “But I’m really glad you stayed with me.” He finally glanced over at him and smiled. “I really appreciate it, Beka.”

Otabek’s eyes widened and he looked away, his cheeks tinting and his ears red. “It was nothing,” he mumbled.  He gave a curt wave and then walked out of the waiting area.

“Yuri.” His mom was suddenly beside him, a confused look on her face. “Was that the _gardener_?”

Yuri chuckled. “It’s a long story.”

 

Nikolai was released from the hospital later the next day.  He was cleared to return home, but he was put on restrictions.  Yuri almost wanted to call work and say that he needed to stay a few more days to make sure his grandpa didn’t do anything foolish, but another missed call from JJ had him packing his bags.

“So, you’ll be leaving tomorrow, huh?” his grandpa asked from the kitchen table.

His mother had left after they finished lunch, since she was working the evening shift at the diner.  Yuri promised she could quit, but she told him that she didn’t mind the work.  In fact, there was a very nice signalman who worked at the train depot who came in every night during her shift for a cup of coffee and a slice of their famous salmon pie.  And she certainly wouldn't want to disappoint him.

“I’ve got to finish up this big contract I’ve been working on,” he replied. “The new transfer has been itching to get his hands on it.”

“Well, best put him in his place,” Nikolai snorted.

“You should get back in bed.” Yuri frowned at him.

“I will, I will.” His grandfather stood up. “But first, I want to show you something.”

“Grandpa…”

“It’ll just take a minute.” He hobbled over and grabbed his coat. “Come, Yuratchka.”

They walked out into the garden toward the large flower bed filled with Cypripedium calceolus.  The ones Otabek had saved.

“These were your grandmother’s favorite,” Nikolai said, bending down to pick up a dead leaf and toss it to the side.

“You’re not supposed to be bending-”

“Did I ever tell you how we met?” he interrupted, his blue-green eyes twinkling.

“Not the details, no.” Yuri gave up.  His grandfather wasn’t going to listen to him, anyway.  He’d just make sure he didn’t start weeding or anything stupid.

“My family owned the bakery in town,” he said, looking up at the clouds overhead. “And her family ran the flower shop. And every Sunday she would come by with fresh flowers for our tabletops and bouquets for the show windows.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I was smitten from the moment I laid eyes on her.” He looked at Yuri and put a hand over his heart. “She’s the one who convinced me to put planters in front of the shop.” He chuckled fondly. “Said she’d lose business, but the flowers would last longer.”

“Grandpa…”

“The first thing we did after we got married was plant Cypripedium calceolus in our garden,” he said. “She was the only one who could get the damn things to bloom.” He shook his head. “But, as the years went by, her green thumb rubbed off on me, I guess.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Yuri sighed, closing his eyes and trying to picture what his grandmother would look like now.  He’d only ever seen her in old photos.

“Oh, she would love you, Yuratchka.” He said. “You’re so much alike,” he explained. “Headstrong, short-tempered-”

“Grandpa-”

“Beautiful and kind.” Nikolai smiled. “If not for you, I probably wouldn’t have been able to keep this garden alive.” He wrapped an arm around Yuri’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the gardener…or about my back.” He sighed. “I made your mother keep it from you, too.” He paused and then laughed. “Well, except the gardener thing. She let that slip, huh?”

“Grandpa…” Yuri rolled his eyes. “I forgive you. Just…don’t hide things like that from me, anymore, okay?” He ducked out from under the older man’s arm and crossed his own over his chest. “I want to help in any way I can, even if that means sending you my entire paycheck.”

“Thankfully, it hasn’t come to that.” His grandfather shook his head. “But, thank you.”

“Oh, and for the record.” Yuri offered his arm as they walked back toward the cottage. “I think you chose the perfect gardener.”

 

The next morning, Nikolai kept insisting upon taking Yuri to the airport.

“It’s not happening, Grandpa.” He glared at him. “You’re going to stay in bed and rest like you’re supposed to.”

“But Yuratchka, it’s the least I can do-”

“Mom’s going to come by later to check on you and you’d better still be in bed.” Yuri ordered. He reached for his suitcase, but stopped when his cat rubbed up against his leg. “Hey, girl.” He smiled down at her. “Take care of Grandpa, okay?” He lifted her up, only struggling a little, and set her down on the older man’s chest.

“Umph.” He let out a whoosh of air under her mighty girth. “Yuratchka, your cat weighs a ton!”

“I wonder whose fault that is?” Yuri quirked a brow. “Anyway, she ought to hold you down until Mom comes by.” As if she understood, the cat curled into a ball and didn’t move from Nikolai’s chest.

“Yura…let me drive you to the airport. It’s not that far.”

“I’ll be fine.” Yuri grabbed his luggage and pulled out his phone. “I’ll just call a cab.” But before he could start dialing, he heard the sound of an engine revving outside.  He looked over at his Grandpa, but the older man was purposely avoiding his gaze, busying himself with petting his cat.

He peeked out the window and spotted a man in a dark jacket atop a black motorbike. It was hard to tell who it was with the helmet on, but the moment he removed it, he recognized him.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re behind this?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.” His grandfather shrugged. “Have a safe trip, Yuratchka.”

“I will.” He walked over and kissed the older man’s forehead before making his way out of the cottage. “Good morning,” he greeted Otabek with a small wave. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Your grandfather said that you might need a ride to the airport,” the other man replied.

“Did he now?” Yuri knew it.  But he couldn't say that he was upset.  He never got a chance to thank Otabek properly for everything he’d done.  “Where do I put my bag?”

“Oh, here.” Otabek took it and grabbed a few bungee cords from the hard case on the back of his bike.  He made quick work of attaching the bag securely, those thick, calloused fingers surprisingly nimble, just like when he was gingerly pruning the orchids. 

Yuri was so distracted that he almost didn’t hear what Otabek said to him.  How long had he been staring, anyway?

“What was that?”

“I said,” the other man began with a small smirk, tossing him a spare helmet “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yuri laughed and hopped onto the back.

The trip to the airport wasn’t a long one and it seemed to go by quicker on the back of Otabek’s motorcycle.  He wondered where the other lived if he didn’t bother taking it when he came to his grandfather’s house, but maybe that was too personal a question, especially since this was the last time he’d see him.

The idea of never seeing him again made Yuri sadder than he thought it would.

“Yura,” Otabek interrupted his thoughts. “Good luck at work.”

“Thanks,” he replied as he dismounted and grabbed his suitcase. “Well, take care,” he began and then stopped. “No, that’s not what I meant to say.” He shook his head. “Thank you for watching over Grandpa’s garden and, since I won’t be around, please keep an eye on him. He trusts you and…so do I.”

“Yura…”

“I hope you do well on your thesis and all that.” He wasn’t sure what went into getting a masters in botany, but he figured he knew that much. “I should get going-”

“Yura, wait.” Otabek grabbed his wrist and spun him around. “You’re not going to come back?”

“Well, I will, I just…I figured-”

“That I wouldn’t still be here?” he finished for him.  Otabek took a breath. “You love the Cypripedium calceolus, right?” Yuri blinked in surprise, but nodded. “I’ll make them bloom every year,” he vowed. “I can’t promise that the slippers will be big enough for you to wear, but…if I keep them blooming, will you come back?”

Yuri stared at him.  Otabek looked so serious and he was blushing.  Blushing!

“What…was _that_?” Yuri asked, trying not to laugh. “Big enough for me to wear?”

“But the lady’s slippers…you said-”

“I know what I said.” Yuri reached up and cupped his cheek. “And you teased me about it, if I recall.”

“Sorry…I just…” Otabek placed a hand over Yuri’s and leaned into the touch. “I didn’t know what else to say,” he admitted. “I know I can’t ask you to stay.”

“I do have to go back to work, but I’ll be back,” Yuri promised. “And I’ll come back more often,” he added before leaning in close enough to feel Otabek’s warm breath against his face. “So, you’ll just have to keep the entire garden in bloom, okay?” he said and then pressed their lips together.

It had been a spur of the moment thing.  A thank you.  An invitation.  A promise.  And when Otabek kissed back, he knew he’d gotten his point across.

“I’ll keep it blooming,” Otabek breathed when they broke apart. “All year round.”

“Good.” Yuri rubbed his thumb over the other man’s bottom lip.  It was just as soft and smooth as he'd imagined. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“Then you’d better hurry back,” Otabek challenged, bumping their foreheads.

Yuri withdrew with a grin. “I will.”

And, for the first time since moving away to Saint Petersburg, he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it. I wrote a multi-chapter fic and finished it. And in less than a year, haha. What was it...four days? Three? Nice!
> 
> I hope you all liked this story (as cliché and overly dramatic as it was)
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com)!


End file.
